


misc recidivism scraps

by handydandynotebook



Series: eep [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Conversations, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Prison, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/pseuds/handydandynotebook
Summary: Three discarded conversations.
Relationships: Susan Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Series: eep [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146869
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	misc recidivism scraps

**Author's Note:**

> scrapped bits from recidivism that didn't make it into the fic proper. i'm cleanin up my scraps folder n like, organizing shit. and i don't have nearly enough susan & max content, so i'm posting the scraps like a lazy ass instead of being productive and writing more susan & max content.

Susan catches a glimpse of the silver around Max’s neck, lips parting as she follows it down her chest. 

“Is that…?” But she knows it is, of course. 

“Yeah.” Max blinks down at the pendant, grazes it over with a gentle fingertip. “It was five years yesterday, you know.” 

“I know.” Susan nods, familiar ache eating through her heart like a worm devouring its way through an overripe apple. 

“…you could’ve taken me back with you. I could’ve said goodbye.” Max’s lips twist in a frown, eyes firm. 

“I did not expect him to go downhill that fast, Max. I didn’t know he…” Susan trails off.

They’ve had versions of this conversation before. It’s a stale argument, it’s a stale grief. 

“You knew enough to be scared,” Max mutters tiredly. “Don’t say you weren’t, I know what you looked like when you were scared for Billy.” 

“I was also worried it might tip Neil off if I brought you back with me. I didn’t want Billy to have to deal with Neil. I didn’t want to put that added stress on him, not with everything else.” It eats and eats and eats. 

“Or maybe he wanted Neil there, maybe he wanted to tell him off, once and for all.” Max’s nostrils flare as she flicks the pendant and Susan sees something ugly in her eyes that might frighten her if she hadn’t seen worse, if she hadn’t seen Max at her worst, bloodied nail bat in her hands. 

“Maybe so,” Susan agrees. “I wasn’t a fortune teller then and I’m not one now.” 

“I hate this whole fucking month,” Max gripes, kicking at the floor beneath the table. 

Susan’s inclined to agree with that too. 

* * *

“Jesus, what happened to your face!?” 

Startled, Max breaks their hug off, holding Susan out at arm’s length to take in the sight of the stitches. Susan’s already been so rattled she could just break down sobbing on the spot because they’re only allowed to hug for five seconds anyway and the contact cut short absolutely _guts_ her at the end of this entire hellish week. 

“I tr-tripped.” 

“We said no bullshit, Mom.” Max hisses through her teeth. 

Her hands leave Susan’s shoulders and Susan knows she can’t hug her again. Defeated, she sinks into her seat. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” 

“So what happened?” Max sits across from her and Susan can tell she’s fuming from head to toe even as she tries to keep herself restrained, lest she get sent out. 

“Well, um…there was an altercation between another inmate and I. She, uh, she s-smashed my face into the toilet bowl.” Repeatedly.

She’d also held Susan’s head under the water until Susan was sure she would drown, yanked her out by the hair in a grip that seared her scalp, promised right next to her bloody cheek that she didn’t have hard feelings, that she was going to let Susan leave the bathroom because she actually rather liked her and took no pleasure in pulling rank. 

“Over what?” Max throws up her hands, eyes wide. “More pudding?” 

No, over Tory. The blonde came back with a curl in her lip and fire in her ocean eyes, and upon objecting to the younger girl’s involvement in smuggling, Susan quickly learned the supposed gift of her cellmate was in fact more of a loan. But she can’t tell Max that, of course she can’t tell Max that. Max would worry and ask questions Susan simply doesn’t have the strength to answer. 

“Yes, actually. Butterscotch always runs out fast. Little supply, high demand…some people get testy.” 

Max stares at Susan very hard. “You should’ve called me.” 

“Oh, I don’t like to bother you. Not for silly things like pudding fights.” 

Max rolls her eyes. "Trivial in theory but if you end up with stitches, it's not that silly of a pudding fight. You need to call me next time, okay?"

"Hopefully there won't be a next time." Although Susan remains wary. The enemy of my enemy is my friend as a principle probably doesn't apply when your shared enemy is dead. 

* * *

“I hate that you’re locked up over that piece of shit,” Max tells Susan on her birthday, steaming like boiled carrots, a particular lividity in her voice. 

“It is what it is, Max.” Susan shrugs. “I’m fine, really. In some ways I have more freedom here than I did while I was with Neil, as strange as that probably sounds.” 

“That is exactly my point.” Max’s eyes narrow. “Neil didn’t deserve the air he breathed. No one shed tears for him, no one should have to pay the price. Especially not you.” 

“Better me than the alternative,” Susan says quietly, offering a gentle smile. 

“Maybe I don’t feel that way.” Max crams her firsts into her denim pockets. Her face is all red and she’s furious, but Susan doesn’t think that’s why her voice wavers. “I hate that you picked this. That you didn’t even talk to me, you just decided this and handed yourself over.” 

Shock ripples through Susan’s nerves. She chews her lip and blinks rapidly, doesn’t have the faintest idea how to respond. 

“I can’t even be mad because you did this for me—“ 

“Of course you can, Max, I told you that. Y-You just feel how you feel.” 

“Well I feel, I fucking feel—“ Max breaks off with a gruff, frustrated sound, jerking her head. She leans across the table and lowers her tone. “We could have talked about it. Hell, screw talking about it, we could have disposed of it!” 

Susan gasps softly, strains against a reflexive mouth drop. 

“We could have worked together. Maybe we’d still be together if we would’ve worked together,” Max continues, ardent in her anger. “I would’ve been willing to do that.” 

“I wasn’t willing. To take that gamble? No, not at all.” Susan shakes her head, presses her lips in a stern line. 

“Of course not, you never take risks, ever. Not even ones worth taking.” 

“Please…I just wanted to protect you,” Susan murmurs, shoulders slumping. 

“You threw in the towel.” Max glares daggers but her voice is all shredded heart sealed with cement. “You gave up, you gave in. You’re the one who decided to pay the price but once again, I have to pay by proxy and I didn’t even get a say in it. You blindsided me with yet another devastating decision that I can't do shit about.” 

Susan flinches guiltily. She wants to believe she did the right thing. She wants it so bad but she can’t deny her daughter her piece. 

Max huffs and straightens, leaning back.

“Your cellmate would probably kill to switch places with me and half the time I’ve jealous of her. You make an effort for Tory, steering her to anger management, helping her study for her GED, clapping for her fucking karate moves.” 

“Keep her out of this and don’t say I never made an effort,” Susan protests. “God, I…I wasn’t a good mother, I could’ve been so much better, I know. But I wasn’t apathetic, Max, I tried. My choices weren’t always the best ones, I’m sorry, but I’m here—“ 

“Yes,” Max interrupts, ire nearly volcanic. “For me, you are here. Where I get to see you for two hours a month. Where I can’t touch you for more than five seconds and I will never share a room with you that isn’t filled with other people, total strangers at that. You are here, the very last place I need you to be, and that’s trying?” 


End file.
